And All He Needed Was The Doctor
by Victor A November
Summary: Tintin was dying. He was dying, and he knew it. Lying on the side of a river bank, bleeding. No one anywhere near him. He was going to die. Until the TARDIS arrived, bringing help with it.
1. Chapter 1

**Right. This fanfic is a Doctor Who and Adventures of Tintin crossover.**

**Want to know about the author? My name is Victor A. November and I love Tintin, Doctor Who, and many other things. (And Victor A. November isn't even my real name, but meh.)**

**I don't own either series! And I'm not making a single dollar out of doing this. Haha now you can't tell me off..**

**Please tell me what you think, and if I should continue writing or not. Thanks!**

* * *

Tintin was dying. He was dying, and he knew it. Lying on the side of a river bank, bleeding. No one anywhere near him. He was going to die.

He knew he'd lost a lot of blood, and he was starting to see double.

When he heard the whining cough, he thought he was hearing things.

Then the police box appeared. It faded into view and out again. Tintin thought it was just his mind going crazy, until it appeared again. The police box stayed in place this time.

Tintin looked up slowly, struggling to see through the haze of pain. The door opened, and a reasonably tall man stepped out, followed by a small girl. The man looked to be about thirty, and the girl in her early twenties.

"Hello," the man said. "What do we have here?"

"A... A report-ter," Tintin tried to reply, but his tongue betrayed him.

"Don't be silly, Doctor. That's no reporter. That's Tintin! You know, the famous reporter from Earth?" the girl said, kneeling down to lift Tintin's head from the ground.

"Really? How fascinating!" The Doctor exclaimed.

"But he won't be Tintin for much longer, unless we help him," the girl continued. "He's dying, Doctor."

"Yes, so I finally get to meet the boy you've talked about so much, Clara."

_Clara_. Tintin knew that name from somewhere. But where?

"He's _dying_!" Clara exclaimed, as she cradled Tintin's head in her lap.

"Yes, how _very_ interesting. Wait. What?" The Doctor asked.

"Tintin is dying. He's lost a lot of blood, Doctor." Clara replied.

Tintin noticed then that Clara's eyes were wet with tears. He tried to see the feeling in the large brown eyes, but the world around him swam dizzyingly around him. He let out a small moan, which was heard by only Clara.

"Hurry up!" Clara screeched at the Doctor. "He's not going to last much longer."

* * *

**Do I really have to remind you? Type SOMETHING in that little box down there!**


	2. Chapter 2

**Hello again, readers! Chapter Two is here, after _two entire people _(yay!) told me to continue... So I thank you, kind reviewers!**

**Tell me what you think? Please?**

**And I haven't acquired the ownership of Tintin or Doctor Who since the first chapter, so yep. Nor am I making any money out of this story (or my other one, Insert Title Here, which is about Tintin, so you should read it!)**

**Right. Read it now...**

* * *

_Where am I?_

Surely he had been dreaming. Tintin sat up suddenly, then gasped in pain, falling back into the soft bed he'd been lying on. Tintin saw that there was a small remote on the bedside, so he reached out slowly to grab it.

"I wouldn't move that much if I were you," came a singsong voice from the door. Clara stood in the doorway, smiling at Tintin.

"But I want to sit up," Tintin complained.

"Here," Clara said, walking over to the bed and grabbing the remote. She pressed a button and the bed bent into a comfortable seat shape. "Better?"

"Much. Thank you, Clara."

"Right. If that's all..." Clara trailed off.

"Why do I feel as though I know you?" Tintin asked.

"Ask the Doctor," Clara answered. "He'll tell you."

"The Doctor?"

"Yeah. The Doctor. He's the one who saved you." Clara explained.

"What sort of name is the Doctor? Doesn't he have a proper name or something?" Tintin asked.

"Well, he's generally known as Doctor Who. He does have a proper name, but no one knows what it is. Except the Doctor himself."

"That's the same as me, really. I'm known as Tintin, but my real name, only me, my ... sister and uh, my parents knew that." Tintin said.

"Are you sure?" Clara asked.

"Yep," Tintin answered proudly. "Really sure?"

"Yep," Tintin replied, only slightly unsure this time.

"Are you a hundred percent sure, Timmy Spark Oswald?"

"How do you know my name?" Tintin demanded.

"Let's just say I knew your parents," Clara answered cheekily, before she turned around and headed to the door. "I'm sure Doctor Who can answer all your questions later."

"But," Tintin protested weakly, before he was nearly overcome by a sudden need for sleep.

"I'll see you lat-" Clara said, but Tintin was asleep before she could finish her sentence.

* * *

Tintin jerked awake fourteen hours after he'd been talking to Clara. He threw the bedcovers back, and swung his legs over the side of the bed. He was feeling a lot better now that he'd had some rest. He placed his bare feet on the cool floor and stood up.

"Great snakes," Tintin mumbled as he tried to stand up straight.

"Well, just look who's feeling better!" Tintin looked up to see the Doctor looking at him. More specifically, his bare torso.

"I don't suppose you have my shirt around here, do you? Or my trousers." Tintin asked.

"Not anymore. We had to discard them, they were that wrecked."

"Damn. You're Doctor Who, right?"

"That's me!" The Doctor exclaimed. "And you are Timmy Spark Oswald."

"Why does everyone suddenly know my name?" Tintin asked.

"Well, it mustn't be much of a secret, if everyone knows it," The Doctor commented.

"Where even am I?" Tintin asked.

"Didn't Clara tell you?"

"No. She wouldn't tell me anything. Said I had to ask you."

"This," the Doctor announced grandly, waving his arms around him, "is the TARDIS."

"TARDIS?" Tintin asked.

"Yeah. Time and Relative Dimension in Space." Clara said, as she walked into Tintin's room.

"Excuse me?" Tintin asked.

"It's a time machine," the Doctor sighed. "And a spaceship."

"Are you joking?" Tintin asked.

"Not at all.

"Great. So where exactly are we?"

"The planet of Macklemore," answered the Doctor.

"Two thousand years after you were born," Clara added.

"Fantastic. What on earth are we doing here?"

"We aren't on earth, and we're having a look around."

Tintin picked up a pair of denim jeans from the table near his bed, and slipped them on.

"Denim suits you," Clara commented.

"What?"

"That's the best thing about the twenty first century. Better fashion."

"Does that mean you're not from where you live?" Tintin asked.

"Sort of," Clara answered.

"If you mean _when_, rather than _where_, then you've got it," the Doctor said.

"Then when are you from?"

"England nineteen-thirties," Clara answered.

"But I live in that time, just, in Belgium, not England," Tintin said.

"Exactly," the Doctor said.

"What do you mean?" Tintin asked, picking up a white polo shirt and examining it. He pulled a face, but slipped it on anyway.

"I was born in 1926," Clara said. "I'm three years older than you."

Tintin buttoned up the polo shirt and sighed. "I can count you know. Just because I'm seventeen and I didn't finish school, doesn't mean I'm dumb."

"What Clara means is that her parents had her three years before they had you," the Doctor sighed.

"Are you saying what I think you're saying?"

"I'm saying that you are Clara's brother, Timmy."

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**MWAHAHA! Cliffhanger! Wait is it? I don't know... That's why you should review and tell me (as well as doing it anyway, to convince me to write more!)**


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